There was no place that destruction did not touch...At best it made everything feel flooded, urgent, while pushing towards decay and exposing the imminent failure of managing to maintain a form at all. Inside this was the kernel of wholeness. She could be broken down into a small, granular piece, a bit of debris jostling against other bits of debris, and in that friction there was some sense of having a boundary or a presence, and that thing-ness of the self, reduced to a basic instinctive sensation, was an almost-nothing feeling that, in its small hard knot of a numb halo, made it clear to her that you were here, you were now.